RS6- The Aftermath
by 90TheGeneral09
Summary: This is the sequel to "The Reactions of Many", but isn't needed to read it. Everything changes. Thoughts. Hearts. Emotions. The boys they raised, grew up knowing, were friends with have been revealed to not be who they thought they were. This is the aftermath of "Zero Day", told from the same perspectives as were featured in "The Reactions of Many".
1. Chapter 1- Chris Kriegman

**Chapter 1: Chris Kriegman**

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 **May 12** **th** **, 2001, 12:46PM**

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 **A/N: A word on this story before we begin. It was 5 rather than 6 in my numbered Restoration Series, an ambitious project begun in December 2016 to replace no fewer than 8 deleted fanfictions on Zero Day from the same user. Like all the rest, it took hours of work to recall and recover enough of the plot and the details to say I could accurately try to rewrite it.**

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Chris stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He had come in here and laid down on his back an hour ago, and since then, he had barely moved. It was a little difficult to move lately. You had to have a goal, direction, motives. You had to be connected to everything. Chris wasn't. He was completely out of it right now. All he could do was sit and think.

It was strange to have to really make yourself get up and do anything, to have to deliberately and consciously do so many things that you normally did automatically. Chris couldn't seem to do anything normally. It was impossible for "normal" anything to have a place in his life right now. Nothing was working right. Everything was out of sync. He would have to go through the motions of the day, ignoring the press outside his house, wanting an interview with the gunman's cousin.

The gunman's cousin.

That was what he had been reduced to. That was all people thought of him as now. The cousin where they had gotten the guns from- never mind the fact that they had stolen the guns from him. Nevermind the fact that they had robbed him, stolen property that Chris had paid for with his own money. It didn't matter. People just didn't care. The general public, the press, the families whose daughters were now dead or crippled by Chris' weapons- no one cared that Chris Kriegman was a victim in this himself, that Andre and Cal had wronged him too. It just didn't matter to people.

There were still a few people standing by him, but most of his friends hadn't come to visit him. They hadn't called, either. All of a sudden Chris was a man not many people wanted to talk to. Jayme had stopped by, but he had also been there with them when they had been shooting the guns. August 21st, 2000. It was hard to believe it was only nine months ago. It felt like a whole other life.

Chris had discovered the theft on May 1st, around ten in the morning. He had been unable to believe it had happened at first, that Andre and Calvin had abused his trust so blatantly. But they'd done it. The note they left, the fact that nobody but them even knew where the key to the gun safe was kept… they'd stolen his weapons. They'd robbed him. Who could have known that Andre and Calvin would have stolen the guns to commit indiscriminate murder? Who could have imagined that Andre and Calvin would kill so mercilessly, so sadistically, before killing themselves?

But then, who could have seen it coming that any of this would ever happen at all?

Chris' cousin had been dead for almost two weeks. Andre was dead along with Calvin and fourteen other people. Only the twelve other people had been killed- murdered by his cousin and his cousin's best friend.

It had been a mistake to tell those two that he owned any guns. A mistake to take them shooting. A mistake to ever even let them inside his house.

He shouldn't have let them see where he kept the keys and the guns. They were hidden for a reason, and he hadn't even thought twice or once before showing them because Andre was his cousin and he had known Calvin for years.

It had been a terrible, terrible mistake. He should have kept Andre out of that gun safe, out of this house, out of his life.

Chris regretted ever having known Andre or Calvin. He was sorry he had met either of them. They had inflicted such damage, shattered so many lives, and then taken their own, and they had done it without hesitation. They were gone now and the pain they had inflicted would linger for years, maybe even decades. The lives they had shattered and destroyed would be felt and remembered as long as anyone who had been there, anyone who knew someone who had been there, was still alive.

Maybe Andre and Calvin had known that would happen.

Maybe they had planned for that, prepared for it, looked forward to it- knowing it would happen, though they knew they would never see it themselves.

Maybe this destruction, all this pain and chaos, was exactly what Andre and Calvin had wanted.

It was possible that the two murderers had been wrong. Time healed all wounds, they said, and people tended to forget things was time went on. Yet, then again, Chris didn't ever see how time would heal these wounds. This was not something you would just forget. It was hardly a normal event, something easily weaved into the fabric of life.

Chris had been interviewed by everybody from the local police to the FBI, and more agents and officers than he could even keep track of had come and searched his house and car. They'd cleared Chris of all wrongdoing, but it had taken some time. Chris knew he was lucky that he hadn't lost his job because of his relation to one of the shooters. His boss trusted Chris enough that he hadn't blamed him either, and had simply put Chris on paid leave and told him to stay in touch and come back when he was able to.

Tomorrow, they were going to hold a funeral for Andre. It was being kept extremely quiet, occurring late in the day, and everything possible had been done to keep it well hidden from the press. No one but close relatives knew. Close relatives and the Gabriels. The Gabriel and Kriegman families were left with no choice but to be in constant contact, as they were faced with the same problems and had suffered the same loss.

Andre's parents had asked that Chris be there today. He really didn't want to but he knew he didn't have a choice. He really didn't want to see that… person's funeral, for obvious reasons; he would go for his aunt and uncle. He didn't want Johanne and Gerhard to be alone on that day. Chris didn't want to get up, despite knowing he needed to. He didn't want to get up or leave his house. Chris let out a breath and stood, grabbing his keys.

Chris didn't know if Calvin's family would be going to Andre's funeral. He hadn't asked and nobody had mentioned that. If they showed, Chris wouldn't object. If they didn't, well, he was find with that, too. He just didn't have it in him to have especially strong feelings toward the Gabriels, for or against.

As Chris got to his front door, he steeled himself, knowing what he was about to encounter outside. He paused a moment, then unlocked the door and opened it. He stepped outside, turned around, pulled the door shut and locked it. Chris stood upright and walked straight to his car, not looking left or right. He had already seen the press waiting for him before he'd stepped outside. And he could not stop them from shouting their questions as he headed for his car.

"Mr. Kriegman! Mr. Kriegman, what do you have to say about the ongoing federal investigation?"

"Mr. Kriegman, how does it feel being a close relative of one of the shooters?"

"Did the shooters give any hints of their intentions to you?"

"When will your cousin's parents make a statement to the press?"

And that was just a few pieces of the barrage. Chris answered none of the questions, resolutely ignoring the microphones, the cameras, the flashes going off here and there. Chris swallowed, hands shaking as he unlocked his car door.

He got in and shut the door immediately, cutting off much of the sound. Chris didn't hate the press, not really. He knew they were just doing a job. Some of them had even told him so. But them calling it their job didn't make it right. Nor did it mean that Chris had to like it, or them.

He started the car, driving off, honking at the press moving close to his car. Chris had to honk a couple times to get them all out of his way, and he got out of the neighborhood in a hurry once he reached the end of the street. From there he took several random turns, driving faster than he normally would have, working through his carefully-devised routine for losing any reporters that might be tailing him. He drove aimlessly after that, forgetting for a time where he was supposed to be going.

Chris wished he could forget more than that.

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 **A/N: 3-6-2017 is the date I first uploaded this chapter. Below is the full extent of the original text I was able to recover for Chapter 1 of this story:**

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 **12:46PM. Chris stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom.**It was a little difficult to move lately. All he could do was sit and think.**He would have to force himself to go through the motions of the** _ **day,**_ **ignoring the press outside of his house, wanting an interview with the**gunman's cousin.**Gunman's** _ **cousin**_ **. That was what he had been reduced to. That's all people thought of him now. The** _ **cousin**_ **where they had gotten the guns**from —never mind the**fact that they had stolen the guns from him. There were still a few people**standing by him**, but most of his friends hadn't come to**visit him. Jayme had stopped by, but he had also been**there with them when they had**been shooting the**guns.**

 **Who could have known that** _ **Andre**_ **and Calvin would have stolen the guns to ...**

 **Andre was dead along with Calvin and twelve other people.**

 **Only the twelve other people had been** _ **killed**_ **—murdered by his cousin and**his cousin's best friend.**

 **He shouldn't have let them see where he kept the keys and the guns.**

 **They were hidden for a reason, and he hadn't even thought before showing them because Andre was** _ **his cousin**_ **and he had known Calvin for**years.**

 **Chris let out a breath and stood, grabbing his keys.**

 **He didn't know if Calvin's family would be going to Andre's funeral or not**

 **that he hadn't lost his job because of his relation to** _ **one**_ **of the shooters.**

 **Yet, then again,** _ **Chris didn't see**_ **how time would ever heal these ...**

 **He didn't really want to but he knew he didn't have a choice.**

 **he really didn't want to see that… person's funeral for obvious reasons, he would go there for his aunt and** _ **uncle**_ **. ... He didn't want Johanne and** _ **Gerhard**_ **to be alone on that day.**

 _ **Chris**_ **swallowed, hands shaking as he unlocked his** _ **car**_ **door.**

 **He started the car,** _ **driving**_ **off, honking at the press moving close to his car.** _ **Chris**_ **...**


	2. Chapter 2- Rachel Lurie

**Chapter 2: Rachel Lurie**

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 **May 12, 2001, 1:17PM**

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 **A/N: This is the second rewritten chapter. Just today I found I did, after all, have original copies of this and all the other deleted Zero Day stories. But, as I had already written a Chapter 2 based off what I'd managed to recover, I decided to keep this one around. Have a look.**

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Rachel Lurie couldn't seem to think straight anymore. She was in a constant state of terror, so paralyzed by fear that she couldn't do anything normally. Each and every action had to be deliberately and carefully done, and typically, had to be learned all over again. Rachel could no longer recall how she used to tie her shoes, hold a pen, take a shower. She wasn't sure how she held the phone when she answered it, or who would even be at the other end when she did. Phones terrified Rachel now. She was afraid that if she answered a call, it would somehow be Cal at the other end. A dead boy who said unspeakable things to her in nightmares, with that sweet smile, and that pleasant-sounding voice. Rachel was terrified of sleep, of seeing the faces of the dead when she closed her eyes, but she was also afraid of leaving her bed.

It was May 12, 2001, and Rachel had not left the house since making it home- somehow- on May 1. Nothing was safe anymore; there were press everywhere, asking questions. Grieving parents and friends, demanding answers. It had to be a living hell for the Gabriels and the Kriegmans, but it was no better for Rachel. She had been seen with both of… them on many occasions. People knew she had associated with them, especially with Calvin. She was now "the murderer's friend."

Red was now a hated color. She couldn't stand looking at it. It had reminded her of the blood she had caught sight of as she made her way out of the school eleven daysearlier. When Rachel's mother had been preparing tomato soup a few days ago, Rachel had panicked at the mere sight of it. She couldn't stop thinking that the bowls were full of blood, the blood of high school students, the blood of people her friend and his best friend had killed. Rachel had made her parents get rid of all the tomato soup in the house, and anything else including the color red. It represented blood and death now.

Rachel wrapped her arms loosely around her legs, staring straight ahead at the wall opposite her. She could still hear a few press outside of the house, trying to convince her parents to let them talk to her. They wanted to know all the details about Calvin—her former best friend. How she felt having been in the library as the boy killed their classmates.

She had cried so much over the last two weeks that her tear ducts didn't produce enough tears for herself to actually cry. The day it had happened was etched forever in Rachel's mind. She couldn't stop seeing it, hearing it. Any sleep since then was when she had cried herself into exhaustion. Rachel couldn't seem to do anything else. She was so saddened, so frightened, that she just kept crying. It would happen at any time, for any reason or none. There was no way Rachel could even describe the pain.

She had been closest to him- besides Andre- hadn't she? Rachel had mixed feelings about that, to say the least. On one hand, she liked to think she had been, but on the other side she still felt that horror inside of her. Horror, and disappointment. Disappointment in Calvin, for having listened to Andre, who Rachel knew had done a lot to help lead Calvin down a dark road from which there could be no return. Disappointment in Cal again, for not having chosen a different best friend. But mostly disappointment in herself, for not knowing better.

Rachel couldn't believe she hadn't seen signs. They'd been there; no chance of denying that. The signs had been there. Signs that something was wrong with Andre, who never forgot a grudge and was obsessed with power and dominating others. But it hadn't all been Andre. Not all of the horrors seen at Tielson High School on May 1, 2001 had originated at the Kriegman house.

No. Calvin Gabriel had been also been a part of it. And from everything Rachel had seen and heard and knew of the killings, Calvin- kind-hearted, shy Calvin- had been glad to be a part of it. A volunteer, just as much as Andre. He had kept it a secret and hidden his and Andre's plan from everyone, but there were still things, moments where Rachel had felt like something was off. Calvin had even told her. He had gone right ahead and told her, disguising the truth as a joke.

"Oh, I lock it inside. Nobody sees it. I keep it from everyone."

Rachel could hear the words now. She could hear them now. It had haunted her for going on two weeks now that she'd heard him say that and believed he was kidding. He had told her the truth about who he was and what he was going to do, and Rachel had laughed, confident that there was no way he was serious.

Had it been a cry for help? Had Calvin, always so shy around others, been trying to tell Rachel that he wasn't doing as well as he looked? Rachel did not understand how someone so cheerful and good-natured as Calvin could have done what he did at the end of his life. He was always happy, especially around Andre. Maybe he never was crying for help. Maybe he really had wanted to do what he had done.

Rachel could not say which thought was worse: that Calvin had tried to ask for her help in the only way he could think of and she'd let him down… or that Calvin as she had known him was a different person from who he'd really been.

One way or another, Calvin had been suicidal. He had definitely wanted to die. Rachel had always been so sure that if one of her friends felt like that, she would recognize it, see it for what it was, and be there to help right at the moment she was needed most. What a joke. What a sick joke that sense of confidence had turned out to be.

A knock came at the door and Rachel took in a breath, running her hand through her tangled brown hair. "Sure!" Rachel blurted, not even sure anymore what she was supposed to say when someone knocked at her bedroom door.

Rachel tried to smile as Brian walked in, but it came out more like a grimace instead. "Y-you're the first one to come visit me. I didn't think anyone was going to." She hesitated. "Did- none of t-those reporters got in, did they?"

The boy frowned, shaking his head, deciding to just let her speak. He closed the door and took a seat on the bed next to her. Rachel scooted over a bit to make room for him, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I'd ask how you've been," Brian said, "but I doubt either of us wants to know."

"It's been- it's- it's so horrible," Rachel managed to say. "I haven't left my room in nearly two weeks, and I can't hold down solid food, and I made Mom throw out all the tomato soup 'cause it looks like blood, and there's always reporters outside and-and-"

Brian squeezed her arm a bit, pulling her closer and resting his head on hers. "It's all right."

Rachel sighed, trying to just cry and not start bawling again. "I don't know, Brian. I can't do this."

"Nobody's asking you to."

"Nobody's talking to me, Brian. Nobody is."

"Your parents are still here. They're looking out for you. But everybody else, well… I think nobody… we just don't know what to say."

"Everybody hates me, Brian."

"Maybe some people do, but they're wrong. Anyone who knows you- they know you had nothing to do with this. Calvin was your friend. I met him and he seemed really nice—a bit shy, but nice. Nobody thinks someone is going to do something like that. You can't blame yourself, Rach."

Rachel drew in a ragged breath. "I-I should've seen it coming. There- there were signs, and… the press are bombarding my parents and siblings every time they walk out the door. Every time. I could've seen it coming."

Biting down on her lip, she held in a small sob. Rachel clenched her eyes shut, the screams echoing through her mind. She wondered if she would ever stop hearing them.

"I doubt this is gonna mean much right now, Rach, but the press- most of 'em are just doing a job. I wish they'd go away, but everyone in America wants to know what happened out here."

"They can- I don't care!" Rachel blurted. "I want them to leave me alone. I want them to leave my family alone."

"They will. Eventually. Until then, you'll have people around you keeping them away."

"He said horrible things, Brian. Calvin said things… he sounded like Andre always did. He even told one of the boys to look at some girl- she was probably dead… He screamed at a girl asking if she was d-dead yet." Rachel's eyes filled up with tears, and she shut her eyes again, fighting back panic as her mind retrieved vivid images, brought back sights and sounds she never wanted to hear or see again, but would probably hear and see for the rest of her life. Maybe less often as time went on… but the chance would always be there. Always.

"Rachel, it's okay. No one blames you. You did nothing wrong."

"Was I even his friend, Brian?" Rachel said, choking back sobs. "I-I don't even know. I might've just been some kind of cover f-for him. Those things he said, Brian… those things…"

Brian held her close as she really started to lose it, and spoke calmly and softly to her as she cried. "Shh… Rachel, you can stop now, you can stop. You didn't see this coming. You didn't."

"But I was Calvin's friend for five years. I should've seen something, I should've. It's my fault."

"Rachel, I want to tell you something. Just listen to this, okay?"

Rachel drew in a breath and slowly let it out. Barely, just barely, she had control of herself again. "Okay."

"People would kill me for saying this… but if it helps you then I don't care. Calvin wasn't all bad. He wasn't some demon who crawled out of Hell to go kill high school kids one day. He was a person. He was human and he let himself become something no one should ever be. I think he let a lot of dark thoughts into his head and got really good at keeping them from everyone around him. He was probably a really good liar. When you get like that, you can make yourself look the way you want to people. He knew how to do that."

Brian hesitated, thinking for a moment. "You really were his friend, not just a cover for one. I saw how he talked to you. He might have faked it with some people, but not with you. I don't think he'd want you to blame yourself. Try remembering Calvin like you knew him. Remember that Calvin, not the one that is spread all through the newspapers, on TV… most people will think that's who he was. He hid things from you, Rachel, but the Calvin you knew wasn't all fake. If I had to guess, I think he appreciated you being there, and being his friend. Those five years probably meant something to him."

"Not enough." Rachel couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice, or the pain.

"No," Brian agreed. "But when someone starts down a road like that… it might not be possible for anyone to stop them. If they want it that bad… they'll do it, no matter how many people love them."

After that, Brian fell silent and didn't speak again for ten minutes. Rachel didn't reply to what he had said. She didn't know what to say. Words never came to her like they once did; not anymore.

"Thanks, Brian."

"Sure." Brian sighed. "I hope that helps somehow. I wish I could fix it, Rachel. I wish I could just set it all right."

"Do you have to go anywhere?"

"No. Not for a while yet, anyway. I made sure I'd have plenty of time before I came over here."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Brian hesitated, then added quietly, "You know, if I wasn't into guys… I'd totally date you."

Surprised and even a little flattered, Rachel laughed. It felt good to laugh, even if only for a few moments. "Great," she replied, "a gay guy likes me." They both laughed, but it didn't last very long. Both of them knew it would be a long time before they could really laugh again, before they could enjoy life like they had before.

Rachel lay her head on his shoulder, and Brian held her in his arms, probably not sure what else to do. That was true of both of them, of Rachel's siblings and her parents, and the families of the victims, and of Cal, and of Andre. The world was turned upside down. Maybe, from now on, it always would be. Rachel knew Brian was doing his best to help, and that he had meant everything he said. Maybe it was even true.

But even if it was, it didn't change the fact that Rachel could hardly bear the pain from all of this. The guilt, the remorse, the reliving of the things she saw and heard, again and again. Maybe it would all get better with time. Maybe. But even if it did, the memories would be with her for tonight after Brian went home, and tomorrow. Unless Rachel got what she had often wished for since May 1st, and she went to sleep tonight and didn't wake up. If that happened- and Rachel couldn't say if she actually wanted that, or just felt like she did- then the pain would end and tomorrow would become forever.

Why? Why had Calvin done this? Why hadn't the love of all the people who'd cared about Cal not been enough to stop him? Those questions and a hundred others echoed through her mind, long after Brian left. Rachel fell asleep still searching for the answers, only just beginning to realize she would probably never find them.

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 **A/N: 10-28-2017. Got Chapter 2 done and up. I actually completed this rewrite of Chapter 2 on 7-17-2017, but for some reason never uploaded it. I most likely just forgot.**

 **Just like "The Reactions of Many", "The Aftermath" focuses on Chris Kriegman, Rachel Lurie, then the Kriegman parents and the Gabriels. I worked hard to recapture the insightfulness and authenticity of the original Chapter 2, and I'd say I did that. It's not an exact rewrite of the original work, but it is close enough. Having found the original text files on my computer on 10-28-2017, I was given a major boost to my work on the Restoration Series. I compared my replacement Chapter 2 to the original, and not only is my version 1,100 words longer, I honestly liked it a little better. The original author had brilliant ideas for Zero Day and did well implementing them, but without bragging too much I believe I am actually more polished as a writer at this point. I wasn't back in 2011 when I first read the originals being remade in the Restoration Series in 2016-2017, but I am now.**

 **Looking ahead, Chapter 3: The Kriegmans is next, then Chapter 4: The Gabriels.**

 **Below is the original Chapter 2, for comparison to my rewrite of it. Out of 1,216 words, I recovered 603, a little under half.**

 **She wasn't moving, barely thinking. She had to have her mom throw out the tomato soup she had made because just the sight of it had made her throw up. Red was now a hated color. She couldn't stand looking at it. It had reminded her of the blood she had caught site of as she made her way out of the school eleven days earlier.**

 **Rachel wrapped her arms loosely around her legs, staring straight ahead at the wall opposite her. She could still hear a few press outside of the house, trying to convince her parents to let them talk to her. They wanted to know all the details about Calvin—her former best friend. How she felt having been in the library as the boy killed their classmates.**

 **Honestly, she didn't know how she felt. There was that part of her that felt absolutely** _ **disgusted**_ **at having been Calvin's friend, the friend of a murderer. Yet there was also that part that felt… sorry for him. She should have seen the true him. She had been closest to him—besides Andre—hadn't she?**

 **The girl had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, she liked to think she had been, but on the other she still felt that horror inside of her.**

 **Disappointment wasn't something in which she was lacking in. Disappointment in Calvin, but mostly disappointment in herself. Rachel couldn't believe she hadn't seen signs. Calvin had even** _ **told**_ **her, but she had passed it off like a joke.**

 **She had always told herself that if one of her friends ever felt like that, she would recognize it for what it was. Except her friend had told her outright and she hadn't seen it for what it was. Depression. A cry for help maybe?**

 **Except… Calvin had never seemed unhappy. He was** _ **always**_ **happy** **, especially around Andre. Maybe he never was crying for help. Maybe he really** _ **had**_ **wanted to do what he had done.**

 **Rachel closed her eyes, feeling them water. She wouldn't cry, she knew that. She had cried so much over the last two weeks that her tear ducts didn't produce enough tears for herself to actually cry. Rachel almost wished she could though—the only time she had gotten any sleep since then was when she had cried herself into exhaustion.**

 **A knock came at her door and she took in a breath, running her hand through her tangled brown hair. "Come in." She called out softly, the door opening. Rachel tried to smile as Brian walked in, but instead it came out more like a grimace. "Y-you're the first one to come visit me… I didn't think anybody was going to."**

 **Brian frowned and closed the door before taking a seat on the bed next to her. Rachel scooted over a bit to make room for him, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her. "I think nobody… we just don't know what to say."**

 **Her brown eyes fell shut again. "Me neither." Biting down on her lip, she held in a small sob. "I don't know what to think, what to say… the press are bombarding my parents and siblings every time they walk out the door. I haven't left my room in nearly two weeks, I can't hold solid food down…"**

 **Brian squeezed her arm a bit, pulling her closer and resting his head on hers. "This… people don't get that this is going to be hard on you two. Just as hard as it is for the victim's families and for their… their parents." Rachel took in a shaky breath. "Calvin was your friend. I met him and he seemed really nice—a bit shy, but nice. Nobody thinks someone is going to do something like that, you can't blame yourself, Rach."**

 **Rachel wiped at her cheek, feeling a small tear start to spill over, although it didn't make it very far. "But I was Calvin's** _ **friend**_ **for five years. I knew him even before he knew Andre. How can someone not notice that their friend has problems like that? No, I even asked him and he told me… I teased him about having some hidden evil and you know what he said, Brian?"**

 **The boy frowned, shaking his head, deciding to just let her speak.**

 **"He said that he did and that he locked it away so that nobody would see it… he** _ **told**_ **me and I thought he was just joking; going along with my teasing, but he wasn't." She opened her eyes, looking over at him. "How could I not see it for what it was?"**

 **"Who could see that?" Brian asked, lightly running his fingers through her hair, trying to comfort her. "Nobody is going to see something like that. Calvin must have been hiding his feelings for a** _ **really**_ **long time. He was probably a really good liar. You wouldn't see it if he didn't want you to, and he didn't want you to see it. I do know one thing though."**

 **Rachel glanced over at him. "Yeah? And what's that?"**

 **"That he wouldn't want you to blame yourself." Rachel gave a small laugh. "No really. Even though he did… that, I could tell he cared about you. You really were his friend, not just a cover for one. I don't think he'd want you to blame yourself. People would kill me for saying this… but if it helps you then I don't care. Try remembering Calvin as the Calvin** _ **you**_ **knew, not for the Calvin that is spread all through the newspapers and on TV, okay?"**

 **Rachel looked down at her hands. "I don't know if I can do that though… I was, Brian. You weren't. You didn't hear the things he said. The way he** _ **taunted**_ **them, and I want to talk about it but I'm scared."**

 **"I'll listen…" He told her softly, arm tightening around her slightly.**

 **"It was horrible. He was laughing at their fear and their pain. He screamed at a girl asking if she was d-dead yet. Th-the girl ended up dying." Rachel clenched her eyes shut, the screams echoing through her mind. "'Jesus, look at all the blood' he said. He sounded so** _ **awed**_ **. It makes me feel sick. He even told one of the guys to look at some girl—she was probably dead."**

 **Rachel took in a shuddering breath. "I'm just.. I'm thankful for that guy with me. He nearly carried me trying to get us out. If he hadn't I probably would've been there when they…"**

 **"Shh… Rachel, you can stop now, you can stop." Brian pulled her into a tight, the girl shaking in his arms. "I know it's difficult, but try putting it out of your mind. No good will come of continuing to think of it."**

 **The brunette nodded against his shoulder before pulling back. "Thank you for coming to see me, Brian. I really… I needed the company."**

 **Brian gave her a small smile. "You know, if I wasn't gay, I would totally date you."**

 **Rachel gave a watery laugh, wiping at her face. "Great, a gay guy likes me." Both of them laughed, but they both knew it would be awhile before either of them—especially Rachel—would be laughing completely again.**

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 **A/N: So that was the original Chapter 2. When I got my hands on the old chapters again, I figured I might just delete my rewrite of Chapter 2 and use a modified copy of the original. But after finding I'd written 1,100 words more and done pretty well overall to recapture the essence and plot of the old one, I decided to keep it and include the old Chapter 2 so readers could compare the two and have a great chance to see for themselves how well I did (or did not) do in this effort. There are two more chapters left before this story is finished. With the original work now on hand for reference, I can guarantee that "The Aftermath" will be completed before the end of 2017.**


	3. Chapter 3- The Kriegmans

**Chapter 3: The Kriegmans**

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 **May 17, 2001, 11:23AM**

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 **A/N: This was going to be the first chapter for this story that I had to rewrite completely from scratch. Since I found copies of the original stories on a portable hard drive I have, that is no longer necessary, and I created a modified copy of the original chapter instead. Much of this is someone else's work originally. But it is now, as the entire Restoration Series had been, a blend of their talents and my own.**

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Johanne tried to ignore the looks as she wandered around the grocery store. It was hard to remember what she was even here for. As many times as she forgot why she was on a given aisle, Johanne knew that if she hadn't made a detailed list, she would have come home with nothing at all after wandering aimlessly around the store for two hours. She and her husband had tried to go out as little as possible in the last two and a half weeks, but at times they eventually had to wander out of the household. They dreaded those times. What had once been commonplace, not even worth giving a second thought, was now a serious, worrisome matter. It was a significant mental effort to get out of bed. It was a struggle to leave the house.

Johanne knew that people judged her. She couldn't really blame them. After what Andre had done to _everyone_ … even Johanne couldn't help but blame herself. If she had just paid more attention to her son, she probably would have seen that something was wrong. There had been something deeply wrong with Andre.

But both she and her husband had been blind to it.

Maybe that was to be expected though. He was their son. Perhaps it was because of that reason that they were so blind to his faults. All they ever saw was the smart, talented, sweet child that they had given birth to and had raised.

She wished that they could just go back in time with their memories of this intact just so that they could stop him. Johanne loved her son, even knowing what he had done, but it hurt. How could she have raised a murderer? Had her parenting gone wrong somewhere down the line? Why had Andre been so depressed? Why had he been so _angry_?

None of it connected in her mind. She was playing connect the dots and the picture didn't make any sense in the least. This had to be some horrible nightmare… a nightmare that wanted to last _forever_.

"Johanne…"

Hearing her name, Johanne took in a breath, preparing herself for whatever was to come before turning around. It was one of her old friends—Heather Roads—but so far most of her friends had turned on her, and she wouldn't be shocked if Heather had as well.

"Heather." Johanne gave a small nod, hands clenching around her shopping cart's handle. The red haired woman looked at her hesitantly before glancing away. "You don't need to say anything. I understand if you want to cut off ties. Everyone else already has and I'm… not going to blame you for it."

The woman frowned. "Johanne, I wanted to… to tell you how sorry I am for your loss."

Johanne Kriegman blinked back tears, looking at her friend—former friend?—in slight shock. "Sorry for my loss?"

Heather gave a small nod. "I am sorry, Johanne. I don't—of course I don't condone what Andre… what he did, but people seem to forget that you and Gerhard lost a son in all of this. They want someone to point fingers at, but I know you and Gerhard are—were wonderful parents. Nobody loved their child more than you two."

Johanne closed her eyes, shaking slightly where she stood. "T-thank you… but I don't blame those people. My son… took the life of somebody else's son or daughter. I can't blame them for hating me and my husband. Somewhere we must have gone wrong with raising Andre."

"No, Johanne, you can't think like that. Look, I know it may not be much, but if you ever need to talk to someone about this, I'll be here for you. These past few weeks have probably been harder on you and Gerhard than anybody else."

"I wouldn't say that," she sighed, opening her eyes and looking at her friend. "Others lost children too. Teenagers were scarred for life. I can't imagine what it must be like for the teenagers that were… inside the school at the time. And I don't blame them for hating us. I hate myself. A part of me will never forgive Andre for doing what he did, how could I? What he did is so… unthinkable. Gerhard barely speaks; neither of us really speak much, actually. Neither of us are going to move on from this. Time cannot heal these wounds."

"I'm sure that's not true. In a few years maybe you'll—"

"No, it will not. Our only child is gone and the manner of which he… was taken from us will forever haunt us, Heather. There will be no healing from this. Maybe in five or so years, it will be a bit easier, but so long as we don't wake up from this nightmare, there's no getting over it."

"Johanne…"

"Thank you for your well wishes, and I will definitely take you up on your offer some time, Heather." Johanne forced a smile before wheeling the cart away to finish her shopping. She moved past the few people in the aisles, ignoring the glares with difficulty.

At the register, Johanne paid cash so the cashier did not have the chance to see the name KRIEGMAN on her credit card. Her checks, her credit cards, her driver's license… everything, everything she used in so many parts of her personal and professional life had her name on it. Her husband's name. Andre's. The one he had stained with the mark of evil. Never had Johanne been so ashamed of herself, or her son. The cashier was polite, and made no remarks. Johanne couldn't tell if he knew and was being nice about it, or if he was one of the few that didn't know the name and face of one of the two women now being branded as "the killer's mother".

Outside in the parking lot, Johanne passed two boys who were just closing the liftgate on a massive black Cadillac Escalade. One of the muscular, fashionably-dressed boys shook his keys and said, "All ready to go, Jason?"

The other slapped his palms against the arms of his wheelchair. "Ready steady, Mister Brad Huff, sir!"

Brad laughed. "Hey, how about we-"

The boy stopped. His head turned, and his eyes narrowed, and Johanne held onto the handle of her shopping cart a little tighter. Like so many others, this Brad had seen her. He'd recognized her. Already she could feel the heat of his stare.

"You _bitch_ ," he hissed. "That piece of _shit_ you raised fuckin' wasted my little brother."

Brad turned and yanked open the left rear door, tore a glass bottle out of a pack, and hurled it at Johanne. It shattered at her feet, and she jumped, fighting not to cry out in fear. Brad knew he had scared her, though, and the teenager's high, mocking laughter followed all the way to her car. "That'll show you, bitch!" he laughed. "That's what we all think of you! Fuck you! _Fuck you_!"

Johanne hurried to open up her car and put away the things she'd bought. She knew this "Brad", she realized. That was Brad Huff. He was big stuff at Tielson High School, and Andre had hated him for a long time, right along with Cal. She remembered their rants. They'd sounded like nothing more than venting, a long time ago.

Apparently, Brad had been spared. Most likely Andre and Calvin had never even seen him in the school that day. Maybe they'd found Brad's younger brother and murdered him in Brad's place, killed him as a substitute. Maybe they hadn't even looked at him, hadn't even known who they were shooting, and just killed. Johanne could not decide which was worse.

"Ma'am?"

Johanne screamed and dropped the eggs she was holding. She let them go, already sure they'd be smashed, but the Styrofoam carton was held up to her a moment later.

"Sorry for scaring you, ma'am."

Johanne turned and saw the boy in the wheelchair sitting close by, holding up the eggs she'd dropped. She nervously took them, worried that he might throw them in her face at the last second. He didn't. He just sat there.

"Ma'am, I want to apologize for Brad. It's been hard on him, losing his brother. He'd just started 9th grade."

"Please," Johanne said, feeling as if she might faint. "I can't." The last thing she wanted to hear was about the pain and loss of the people her son and his best friend had harmed and killed. They had done so much evil, to so many. The scars of it would last forever. Johanne could not stand to hear about the pain of these others when she could not even stand her own.

"I know," he said quickly. "I just- Brad- he-"

The boy broke off, unsure how to proceed. He sounded so much like Johanne did these days. Distracted, confused, not sure of anything at all.

Then he looked up at her. "Mrs. Kriegman, I wanna just say I'm sorry. About Brad. About what happened. Everything. I know it seems like nobody's ever gonna forgive you for this… but Andre shot me. May 1st. I can't forgive him. But I forgive you." The dark-haired youth looked up at her, visibly struggling. "I forgive you, Mrs. Kriegman. I don't hate you at all."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned the wheelchair around and rolled himself back to the giant Escalade. He and Brad started arguing bitterly. Johanne didn't look. She just hurriedly put away the rest of her things, got in her car, started it up and drove away. A glance in her rearview mirror as she headed out of the store parking lot showed the boys still by the Escalade, still arguing.

That other boy… he was Jason White. He'd been in the paper once. His father had received the Medal of Honor in the fall of 1997 for actions in the Vietnam War, and Jason was automatically eligible to attend West Point because of it. The local papers had made a big deal of it- the grandson of a penniless coal miner, poised to be the first of his family to attend college. He was going to wrestle and play football for the United States Military Academy when he got there.

Was. That dream was ended forever now.

Andre had killed it. Johanne's son. Her boy. He had killed that dream like he had killed so many other hopes and dreams- pitilessly, without hesitation or remorse. The pain he had caused was continuing to spread outward, as more and more people whose lives were connected to the dead and wounded heard the bad news and reacted. Andre had done so much damage at the end of his brief existence that the pain he had inflicted would not end for a thousand years. It was incomprehensible, unimaginable. Her son. He had done that.

And yet Jason White had said "I forgive you" and had every appearance of meaning it. Johanne turned away from that, put it out of her mind. It was unbearable to think of. Somehow, after so much hatred had been sent her way, forgiveness was the last thing Johanne wanted. Somehow it was even worse than the hate. Maybe it was because she hated herself for all that had happened, all that she had not seen, that Johanne did not want to be forgiven. She hadn't yet forgiven herself. She didn't know if she ever would.

Johanne headed home, saying nothing to the press' questions as she pushed past them into the house. Johanne didn't want to speak to them. She knew anything she had to say would just be used against her, and she didn't want to have to deal with the accusations.

Who would want to?

Johanne put the groceries away, mind slowly moving through the happenings of the month so far. A sadness had built up inside of her and it just wouldn't go down. She didn't know if it would ever go down. Probably not.

She felt her husband move next to her, helping her put up the groceries. Neither of them spoke. It was too tiring to speak about it. They were exhausted just from thinking about it.

They knew that they would eventually have to talk about it, but not yet. Johanne wanted to throw up every time she thought about it, so how could she _talk_ about it? Even to one of the only people who understood how she felt—understood what she was going through.

Hopefully she would wake up soon. She would wake up and none of this would have happened, none of this would be real. Andre would still be alive.

He wouldn't be a murderer.

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 **A/N: 10-28-2017. Completed a modified copy of the original Chapter 3, using the files I at long last recovered of every one of the deleted stories. The majority of the text is from the original chapter, but I added the appearance of Brad Huff and the OC Jason White and edited a few bits of text here and there. It was not my appearance to even try to excuse any unjust actions that Brad Huff did. We never see him, so we don't know from the movie who he was, beyond that he had money and was athletic and such.**

 **But even if Brad was a macho jerk and a bully, that pales in comparison to indiscriminate murder. Even if Andre and Cal had some justified outrages about life at their high school, they clearly had forgotten about that long before Zero Day. Any last shreds of morality and compassion they had left were destroyed as they retreated further into their own world. They forgot about any possible early notions of some kind of morally-focused "payback" and instead became obsessed with the idea of inflicting their murderous rage on everyone they could. In short, whatever Brad Huff was, he was not a mass-murderer, and nothing is a justification for indiscriminate killing.**

 **It is entirely possible that Brad Huff as a 12** **th** **grade student had a brother who was in the 9** **th** **. Even if he was unjust, even cruel, towards people he saw as beneath him, it is not unrealistic for Brad to have been fair, even kind and loving, towards a younger brother. I decided to throw in that detail as a little more food for thought. And being thought-provoking is what I believe all of my stories about** _ **Zero Day**_ **, and the movie itself, are about.**

 **To anyone who has reviewed this story- thank you. It is appreciated.**


	4. Chapter 4- The Gabriels

**Chapter 4: The Gabriels**

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 **May 21, 2001, 3:23PM**

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 **A/N: This is the final chapter in this story. It is almost exactly the same as the original, thanks to some text files I recently discovered on a portable hard drive I own. If you have bothered to even look for stories about this movie, and if you have come this far in bothering to read this one, do this: give it some thought. What Andre and Calvin did with their lives in a movie is not so different from what Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold really did do with theirs in real life. Think about this movie and this story. Draw your own conclusions; I'm not here to tell you what to think. But give it some thought.**

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The door to the Gabriel household was slammed shut and Pam looked up to see her daughter Madelyn storming over to her, eyes lined with red. Fear gripped her, and she knew immediately what her daughter was going to say to her. She didn't like it though. Why did she have to tell her eleven year old daughter so soon?

"Why is everybody calling Calvin a murderer?" Madelyn questioned at once, looking to be trying to hold back tears. "People keep coming up to me and calling me the murderer's sister and that Calvin was evil. Why would they say that? What did Calvin ever do to anybody?"

Pam looked over her daughter's shoulder at her husband Steve. The man shook his head slightly before taking a seat in a chair, holding his head in his hands. She sighed, lightly grabbing Madelyn's arm and pulling her down next to her on the couch.

"Maddie, sweetie… we need you to not pay any attention to what people say okay? Calvin was a good brother to you and Eric; he loved both of you, you know that, right?" She ran her hand through her daughter's hair.

"Of course I know that but what does that have to do with them calling Calvin a murderer?" The eleven year old's eyes watered, a tear falling over. "How could people say such horrible things about him? Did… did Calvin do something you're not telling me about?"

"There are a few things… we haven't told you about Calvin's… about Calvin's death, Madelyn." Steve spoke up causing both mother and daughter to look over at him. Pam swallowed, not sure if it was the right thing to tell Madelyn, but also knowing they didn't have much other choice than to do so. "I still don't feel as if you're old enough to know of the exact…" he hesitated. "Circumstance of it yet but we also can't keep you locked away in this house until you're older."

"Wh-what are you saying? I don't understand… what did Calvin _do_?"

Pam took her daughter's hand, squeezing it and the small blonde looked over at her mother. "Honey, your brother… he killed himself. Both he and his best friend Andre killed themselves."

"W-why would he… why would Calvin do that?" Madelyn asked, wiping at her face, trying to keep her crying in check.

"I-I think that's all you need to know, Maddie." Steve stated suddenly. "Why don't you go up to your room and play for a bit, alright? You don't need to know the rest of it. You're not old enough."

"I'm not a little kid! And this is my brother! Why can't I know about my brother?" Madelyn screamed, now freely crying. Pam pulled her daughter into a hug, sobs racking through her body. "I-I just want to know wh-what everybody else seems to know… why is Calvin dead? Wh-what happened that you guys aren't telling me and Eric?"

"Y-your father is right Maddie. We'll tell you when you're ready to know, but you're not ready to know just yet…" she stated quietly, rubbing Madelyn's back.

The blonde sniffed, looking straight ahead across the living room. "…D-did Calvin… did he kill those kids?"

The question shocked both Pam and Steve, but neither of them could deny the fact they should have seen it coming. Madelyn was a smart girl and the circumstances were just too difficult to deny. She wished that her little girl hadn't found out like this—she and her husband should have been the one to tell her, but they had just been trying to protect Madelyn from the hurt it would cause her to know what had really happened. Had that been so wrong?

"Maddie…" Steve started quietly, sitting up sharply.

The girl wiped at her face. "I've been thinking about it for awhile… I knew you guys weren't telling me and Eric everything and people keep calling him a murderer and I…" she hesitated. "I heard about what happened the day Calvin died. It was him, wasn't it? He killed those people. He and Andre, right?"

Pam looked over at Steve, not really knowing what to say. She swallowed. "Y-yes. We don't know why, but he and Andre did do… _that_. But that's not how your father and I want you to remember your brother, okay? Don't listen to those people saying all those awful things about him. What he did was horrible, but you know your brother and he loved you and Eric and he was a _really_ good brother, wasn't he?"

"N-nobody is talking to me anymore and it's because of him, isn't it? Nobody likes me and wants to be my friend anymore. I-is that why you didn't want me and Eric to go back to school? Because you knew it would be like this?"

"Yes, Maddie," Steve told her quietly. "That's why."

The girl's face scrunched up, her hands clenching. "I-I hate Calvin! W-why did he do that? I _hate_ him and I'm glad he's dead!" She jumped up, running upstairs to her room, the door slamming shut behind her.

"Madelyn!" Pam cried out after her daughter, fresh new tears rolling down her cheeks. "G-god… why did this happen to our family, Steve? Why did _our_ son do this to us?" She swallowed tightly, hand clasping around her mouth as she sobbed.

There was no response, only the sound of Steve getting up and moving towards the mantle across from them. Steve stared at the senior picture of his son. The boy's face had a small—barely even there—smile upon it and Steve looked away, picking it up and laying it face down.

It hurt to look at.

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 **A/N: 10-28-2017. The fourth and final chapter of "RS6- The Aftermath" is done.**

 **This was an especially insightful story when I first read it, and I have always admired the four POVs it focuses on. I also admire the way the original author so thoughtfully created two stories using those POVs- one set on May 1, 2001, and the other about two weeks later. Seeing the reactions of these characters to Andre and Cal's actions is interesting and thought-provoking to say the least.**

 **Below is all of the text I recovered when I was starting work on this story- 474 words of some 949. I didn't need the help of those fragments to rewrite Chapter 4, as it turns out. But since I went to so much trouble to obtain the fragments, I figured I'd keep them here to remind me of the effort I have put into this story.**

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 **"I heard about what happened the** **day** **Calvin died. It was him, wasn't it? He killed those people. He and Andre, right?" Pam looked over at ...**

 **Both he and his best friend Andre** _ **killed**_ **themselves.**

 **Steve stared at the senior picture of his son.**

 **Steve started quietly, sitting up sharply.**

 **The door to** _ **the Gabriel**_ **household was slammed shut and Pam looked up to see her daughter Madelyn storming over to her, eyes lined with ...**

 **"** _ **Maddie**_ **, sweetie… we need you to not pay any attention to what**people say, okay? Calvin was a good brother to you and Eric; he loved both of you, you know**that, right?" She ran her hand through her daughter's hair. "Of course I know that but what does that have to do with them calling Calvin a murderer?**

 **to tell her, but they had just been trying to protect her**from the hurt it would** _ **cause**_ **her to know what had really happened.**

 **Fear gripped her, and she knew immediately what her daughter was going to say to her. She didn't like it though. Why did she have to** _ **tell her**_ ****eleven year old daughter so soon? "Why is ...**

" **Why is everybody calling Calvin a murderer?"**Madelyn questioned at once, looking to be trying to hold back** _ **tears**_ **.** ****** **"People keep coming** _ **up**_ **to me and calling me the murderer's sister and that Calvin was evil. ...** _ **Pam looked**_ **over her daughter's shoulder at her husband Steve. The man**shook his head slightly before taking a seat in a chair, holding his**head in his hands.**She sighed, lightly grabbing** _ **Madelyn's**_ **arm and pulling her down next**to her on the**couch.**

 **She wished that her little girl hadn't found** _ **out**_ **like this—she and her ...**

 **Pam swallowed,** _ **not**_ **sure if it was the right thing to tell Madelyn, but also ...**

 **I-is that why you didn't want me and Eric to go back to** _ **school**_ **?**

 **"There are a few things… we haven't** _ **told you**_ **about Calvin's… about**Calvin's death, Madelyn." Steve spoke up causing both mother and**daughter to look over at him.**

 **"I still don't feel as if** _ **you**_ **'re old enough to** _ **know**_ **of the exact…**

 **"Circumstance of it yet but we also** _ **can't**_ **keep you locked away in this house until you're older.".**

 **"I-I think** _ **that's all**_ **you need to know, Maddie." Steve stated suddenly. "Why don't you go up to your room and play for a bit, alright? You don't ...**

 **Why can't I know about my brother?**

 **"N-nobody is** _ **talking**_ **to me anymore and it's because of him, isn't it?**

 **Wh-what** _ **happened**_ **that you guys aren't telling me and Eric?**

 **"I-I just want to know wh-what everybody else seems to know… why is Calvin** _ **dead**_ **?**

 **"How could people say such horrible things about** _ **him**_ **? ... "I've been thinking about it** _ **for**_ **awhile… I knew ...**

 **I hate him and I'm** _ **glad**_ **he's dead!**


End file.
